Story : With the arrival of Spring
Back to: The Chronicles The heady air of Spring :April, 1222 The first spring, two years prior, had seen them all preparing to join the grand venture of founding a new Covenant. Scarcely a year later, after various expeditions, investigations, and an awful lot of back-breaking effort, the snow had thawed around the small and energetic settlement. This was now the second spring to arrive in this place, and what the thawing snows revealed was a much better established settlement, but a relatively new one nevertheless. For the covenant to be termed "a spring covenant" was very fitting. Like the young shoots growing up quickly in the Sun's warmth, the covenant flourished. The coven folk and craftsmen bustled around energetically in the midday sun and there was a sense of purpose and direction about their collective industry. Only the magi now seemed curiously quiet where before they had been conspicuous by their works and manners. Warren stepped out of his temporary dwelling in the main covenant and looked about, taking a moment to breathe deeply of the spring air. Still a touch of winter chill, he thought to himself. Before him stood a near perfect replica of the top of the Long Mynd, only slightly...sharper, he supposed was the word, and steeper too. The winter snows were melting away, but it was not yet warm enough to go about without some good furs or heavy leathers. The air this morning had the potential that only spring air could have; all the ferocity of a winter storm and all the peace of a summer breeze in a single, heartening breath. The green grasses were poking back through the remains of their long frozen progenitors, announcing their intent to bring spring into the world with as much hurry as growing grass could muster. As with most everything else in this magical pocket, the greens of the grass were greener than anything he'd ever seen. The same was true to the blues and blacks of the sky, the whites of the snow and the stars - it all possessed a purity that Warren would have bet life or limb against its very existence before he'd crossed paths with Phaedrus. Ah, Phaedrus. Warren had spent so much time on the road gathering promises of funds and students with Marcus over the last year or so that he'd had little time to pop in one his first and foremost friend among the magi. He'd fallen out of touch with the strange falconer, but they both shared a passion, and it would soon be the time when Warren could get back to that passion - books. Truth be told, when Warren left his family in London, he really didn't care much one way or the other for them, but as he travelled to this royalty with the magus Phaedrus, he learned that there was much more to books than simply being bored to tears by a forced reading. In fact, books were very, very valuable. And the books that these magi used were beyond pricing! If he could...well, he liked books, now. A visit with Phaedrus would have to wait for the time being, though. He had been serving the monk Marcus in his travels, and while the school was still under construction, he served him still. Warren wasn't sure what his place was in this new covenant of magi, Mons Obscurus, as he'd heard it called, but there was no place better for him to remain than a hidden world. It was the first place he'd felt safe in an eternity. And until he knew his place, his purposes were served very well indeed by him serving others. Warren approached the border between the second and first regio layers and he took a moment to focus his mind on his destination, just as he'd been taught to do. There was a danger in crossing these boundaries, he was told, and the crux of that danger was not having a focused mind. He thought of the fields of sheep of the first layer, and the little settlement of shepherds and farmer's huts as he stepped through the fog, emerging onto a less steep, but just as brilliant, Mynd top. He walked the path through the settlement and then to another edge where he focused yet again, this time on the walled courtyard and soon to be garden of Schola Strettonis. He emerged behind some awkwardly piled walls of dirt, but not too far in the future, a garden would be planted in this yard, an that garden would help to conceal the comings and goings of any coven folk who might have need to travel. He'd taken to eating breakfast at the worksite, nearly complete now, and meeting with Princeps Marcus for their travel there. Warren wasn't sure what the spring season held in store for him, but he'd little doubt that it would be interesting. He stepped into the large meal room of the school, mostly vacant now, and scanned for the Princeps. As was often the case, the easiest way to find Marcus was to listen; the magi-monk sang almost as easily as he breathed. After a moment, he found Marcus in front of the school looking down the Mynd with an expression of happiness on his face. He broke off the song, some tune in his native Gaelic, to greet Warren. "Good morrow, my friend. Is it not a glorious day? The wonder and power of the Lord is apparent in everything around us." He beamed beatifically at the school, the chill top of the Mynd and the distant figures of the Strettonians who had begun their day with the dawn down in the valley. "It is indeed a glorious day, Princeps. The winter was...interesting, but I am glad it is behind us." Warren gestured to the school. "Good progress is made, here as well. It should not be long before we start to see students, I think." Warren paused a minute. "I sense that we have more work to do. Alicia has requested that I seek out some specific books. I was wondering if you have any tasks for me, as well?" "Books, yes," said Marcus. "And supplies, we'll need wax tablets for the students." Marcus listed a few other supplies that would need to be gathered at some point. "Mostly," he concluded, "we'll need students. You might also keep an eye open for teachers, though. As we gain more students, Alicia won't be able to handle them all. And, of course, there are subjects she's not qualified to teach." A Trio of Travelers They made a strange group. The short one caught the attention first. From a distance, she seemed almost innocuous. She was young (in truth, all of them were), and stood a few heads shorter then even the other woman. Upon closer examination, however, one was forced to reevaluate her. She carried herself, and her weapons, with the air of one who deserved, even demanded, respect. She was obviously in the position of guard for this group, as unlikely as it seemed. Her eyes were ever moving as she searched for dangers. She stayed near the other woman as much as possible, maybe because the man needed less protection. The man seemed to be enjoying the trek. The spring weather seemed to cheer him immensely, even though the others were immune to its allure. Every now and then he pointed out some bit of flora or fauna, or an interesting geographical feature, always speaking to the taller woman. He didn’t appear to carry any armaments, but he didn’t appear to be counting on the shorter woman’s protection, either. The taller woman was miserable. She was wrapped in the thickest of wool cloaks, but was still huddled over, shivering. None of the passersby even saw her face, or in fact any part of her body. Every now and then she lifted her head slightly to speak to the other woman, always effecting some change to the girl’s positioning. She seemed resigned to a long and uncomfortable journey. The day was a good one for traveling. True, the early spring brings mud, the kind that chills your bones should you find it seeping through your garments. And, true, the sun lacked the intensity it would soon acquire. It was almost a mockery of its once and former self. But as it was the first day in many months that the sun’s rays didn’t reflect off winter’s white coverall, almost everyone felt it was a glorious day. The air abounded with the much anticipated smells that only the early spring can bring. Even the beasts of the fields, and the birds of the freshening winds, jumped and soared and sang with the knowledge that ice and snow were, at least for many months, naught but a distant dream. At long last, even the most pessimistic of souls couldn’t deny that spring was here. A few of the travelers who encountered our group saw even some curious sights. On one occasion, a large carriage rumbled by. The horses were at full gallop, and their thundering hooves threw mud all over anything near them. Then the carriage flew by and sent a second dose of spring thaw over everything. The three were sent diving for whatever cover the nearby greenery could provide. As they emerged, the taller woman shot a venomous stare towards the discourteous passersby. At the next moment the horses reared in apparent terror, and the coach wound up, inauspiciously, on its side in the biggest mud puddle for miles around. The man spoke, very pointedly to the cloaked woman, who shrugged and rejoined her companion. After a time, they came to an inn, and stopped for the evening. Seldom has a more bedraggled and forlorn group entered such an establishment. “Welcome to the Three Lions Inn” sang out a young, feminine voice. “Seat yourselves as you would like, and I’ll find you shortly.” The Three Lions was a fairly small building that had a sense of cozy warmth about its cramped interior, low ceiling, and large hearth. As the travellers sat down, they could hear the serving maid asking after those partaking in the midday meal. The fair was a simple but hearty stew and a hunk of bread, and the room seemed to quieten dramatically as the number of people enthusiastically eating increased. Presently, the young woman approached their table with a pot of the stew and a large ladle. "Were you wanting the stew?" she asked plainly. She eyed their clothes as she spoke, trying to guess their means. "Will you be requiring... wine?" she ventured, "or Ale? We have some mead too, if that be what you fancy." Stew and Dumplings Kelydon was unsure of the exact meaning of many of the serving girl’s words, but it was fairly obvious she was offering him food. He nodded pointing to the stew and said, "Wine," having picked up that one word amongst the many others he had not understood. The serving girl seemed very put off by the three new travellers who had taken a seat at her table. She bustled about filling the various bowls that she had recently rinsed. She brought a cup with wine in it, leaving the bottle and a few other cups for the two women. She hurried away and said a few words to the innkeeper, who more than occasionally glanced at the new arrivals. The girl went to attend to something on the far side of the inn, conspicuously as far from her newest customers as was possible. The Gift never ceased to amaze Kelydon. Why God had deemed it necessary to make mundane animals and folk so put off by those greater than themselves baffled Kelydon. He held no ill will toward those that reacted in such a way. It was in there nature, as his Gift was a part of his intrinsic being. There was no changing it. He did not think the reaction was a curse, but mayhap a protection for the lesser folk granting them a measure of warning against possibly powerful entities. It was just too bad that these people could not tell what a Gifted individual might do with his power. Kelydon would not hurt a fly unless thoroughly provoked, unlike some. At this thought he turned his gaze upon his travelling companions. Ellette was unGifted, a mere woman. Correction, she was not a mere woman, but a warrior of some prowess, certainly. Judging by the power she possessed in her scarred and calloused hands, she must have trained long and hard. She was a pleasant enough travelling companion, however. But there was also, Caprice. Kelydon liked her well enough, so far. She was Gifted and a future Covenant mate, no doubt. Did he respect her? Well, she was rather flippant in her use of the art. She had caused a horse and buggy to turnover, at a whim. Of course, the cart had splashed many people rudely. But one must suffer such indignities whilst travelling. Kelydon felt rather bad about what he had said following the event. Kelydon supposed the matter of respect still needed some thought and further study. Looking at Caprice, he spoke in academically perfect Latin, "Sodales, I wish to offer my apologies for my harsh words earlier. I know you seemed unaffected by them, but my reaction was unwarranted nonetheless." After saying this, Kelydon turned his attention to his cooling stew. "Oh... this is unsavory," in his native Welsh. "I was surprised at your words," Caprice answered. "I am used to being chided for annoying others, or for 'endangering the Order' by teasing mundanes. Your concerns that it is wrong because they didn't deserve to be treated that way are interesting. I shall have to take some time to consider your points." "I just thought it was a bit excessive. But, I should not have been so course in my selection of words. I am usually not a foul spoken individual. I strive to choose my words wisely." ‘’’Any reply by Ellette.’’’ The distinctive travelling partners continued on from the small inn and headed for the Mynd. "Are you sure this is the way?" Kelydon often, no always, had a problem with finding his way. Landmarks did move after all, or so Kelydon thought. He fully intended to prove this using a laboratory at some point. He remembered how his Pater had been so amused by his consistent lack of orientation. Belidonis had even placed spells of location on Kel at various times, so as to be able to locate the wayward apprentice when the inevitable task of locating him was necessary. Mons Obscurus at Last "I believe I see the school we are seeking, Ma'am." Ellette was peering over a small rise as Caprice and Kelydon caught their breath. Climbing through hilly territory, at the end of their long journey, seemed a cruel joke."There are two men who appear to be waiting. I think I can take them if need be." Her native tongue, Italian, sounded strange in the cool spring air of England. "She is boasting again, isn't she?" observed Kelydon. He was finding it frustrating listening to the women’s' conversations and NOT QUITE being able to understand. The differences between Latin and Italian were a bit too pronounced."It would be interesting to let her go in alone, assuming they are magi. How is it she has such little respect for the abilities of the magi? Has she never seen the raw power a member of the Order can harness?" Caprice's ever-present smile grew broader. "You haven't ever seen me cast a spell, have you? I am much more subtle than that. But Ellette has seen some interesting sights." ::Marcus and Warren drew closer. (Please insert appropriate descriptions of the two characters; I couldn't find any.) :::Descriptions of Marcus is here Marcus Background and Warren has some data here - Warren Character Sheet ::I did a small edit and rewrite ... The small company toiled up the last of the trail which had been beaten down by the heavy traffic of the last year. Ahead of them was a freshly completed (I think) resembling a monastery. It seemed small for a covenant, as well as undefended and lightly populated. In fact, only two figures could be seen. One was a short man, several inches shy of five feet, blond and striking looking with a quick grace. Next to him stood a stout man clad in simple monk's robes, his touseled dirty-blond hair cut with a tonsure that could use a little attention. As the company drew close, the monk hailed them in heavily accented pidgen-Welsh, delivered in a rich and musical voice with a lilting cadence. "Good morning," he cried, "and God's blessings on you." He pointed back at the building, "Come about the school?" He caught sight of the heavily armed woman in the group and added softly, for Warren's ears more than anyone else's, "or perhaps not." ::Do you want to leave this stand or change it? "Salve, Sodales. I am expected, I believe? My name is Caprice ex Jerbiton, filia of Arcturus. My companions are Kelydon ex Bonisagus, and my shield grog Ellette." Kelydon glances at Caprice, a slight frown edges across his face. "I am Kelydon ex Bonisagus filius Belidonis. I may have forgotten to tell Caprice my Pater's name." A forced smile crossed his face. Category:1222 1222Q2 Category:Caprice Category:Kelydon Category:Marcus